


Morning heart attack

by IntolerantBonita



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Secret Relationship, Sheriarty - Freeform, jimlock, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 12:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8750020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntolerantBonita/pseuds/IntolerantBonita
Summary: Prompt: "Imagine Person A hears Person B screaming bloody murder. A rushes to their side thinking they were being murdered only to find B playing a horror game" from otpprompts.tumblr.com





	

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Zawał serca o poranku](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8672290) by [IntolerantBonita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntolerantBonita/pseuds/IntolerantBonita). 



"Wake up! Any plans for today?" asked Sherlock, walking into the bedroom. He managed to wipe his wet hair after a morning shower and the man's reply still didn't come.  
"Hm?" Jim muttered into a pillow after a while. He lazily raised his head to look at Sherlock.  
"I asked if you have any plans for this beautiful morning."  
"Beside staying here..."  
"I hope you didn't forget that John comes back in 9 hours." Holmes disturbed quickly, folding the towel.  
"...and killing monsters I don't have feel like doing anything else." He finished and his head fell on pillows again. "Don't worry. Even though I'd really want to, I can't forget about your dear friend because you constantly don't do anything else but remind me of his existence! As if he got to know about us would become, at least, a reason of the third world war or..."  
"Stop laying it on thick, Jim. I just don't want to have useless problems. I wouldn't like to spend every day with somebody who would insinuate me something or talk to me like a Dutch uncle all the time."  
"And despite this, you like my company." Jim smiled. "Someone could think that our little doctor will be really jealous..."  
But Sherlock had already disappeared.  
"Do you want something hot?" He shouted from the kitchen, incidentally changing the topic.  
"I've already got something hot this morning and I'm not prepared for round two, honey," Jim shouted back and started crawling on the bed, trying to find a controller.  
"I was rather thinking about tea," Sherly replied in his normal voice. However, he didn't have to hide a smirk which appeared due to memories of the last hours.  
"Fair enough. But you should remember I reawaken my forces very fast, so if you change your mind and be in a mood for a slightly different thing, you always know where you can find me!"

Sherlock had already put the kettle on and he had nothing to do but wait. On this lazy day, he didn't have to focus on anything particular specific. Therefore, he started wondering, how on earth, these foolish video games could be entertaining for a man with such an intellect and abilities of observation.

The kettle made a quiet click, which shook the brunette out of his thoughts. In the exact same moment, he felt it was much colder in the place where he was standing than in the bedroom. “It’s impossible that there’s that large difference of temperatures between these two rooms,” he thought, giving a quick look in the direction of salon’s windows. To his surprise, both of the shutters were open. Sherlock didn’t remember going into the living room that day, let alone having an idea of airing the flat, when it had been snowing for a few days. “I bet Jim did it” he stated, wrapping the robe tightly around himself and closing the windows. 

He leisurely came back to the kitchen and started scrabbling around in the upper cupboard. He took out his simple, white mug and Jim’s black one, which he brought some day at the beginning of their “closer” relationship – he always said that everything tasted better from it.

Shirley began pouring water into one of them. The liquid filled almost the whole cup when the man suddenly heard an appalling scream, coming from his bedroom.  
Startled Sherlock was able only to raise his head, waiting for further cries. His imagination immediately started suggesting him various scenarios and he was absorbed with them to such an extent, that he didn’t feel the pain at all. He was just standing there for a minute or so, spilling his hand with boiling water.

After a while, he started realizing, what he actually had heard. Still not paying attention to the hand (which was hurting like hell now), he put away or even threw a kettle on a table behind him and, in an accompaniment of fight’s sounds, decided to save his boyfriend.

“James?!” he yelled. He wanted to reach the bedroom as fast as possible and his brained changed into a living hell.

“How did Mycroft’s people get to know that Jim hides at my place?”

He heard another bump and even louder scream.

“Did I miss something? Why didn’t I notice their break in through the window?”

He managed to leave the kitchen. 

“And how, for God’s sake, Jim couldn’t notice it!”

He almost fell onto a commode.

“In that case, they shouldn’t harm me, unless they know about us and think I am complicit in all of the crimes…”

Then, another crazy thought started growing in his head:

“What if it isn’t Mycroft or Lestrade’s blame? What if it’s John?”

He barely turned right. There was nothing else but the final stretch.

“What if he came back earlier and thought that Moriarty is a danger for all of us?”

“JIM!” shouted again.

“No, he wouldn’t use physical violence towards him, he perfectly knows he wouldn’t stand a chance with… But does he?”

If not his left arm, which hooked against the door frame, he would plummet on a floor with a huge noise. Another scream stopped on his lips as he frozen, trying to understand, what he  
actually saw.

“Ji… Jim,” he quietly finished between gasps.  
Moriarty, who still wasn’t aware of the horror Sherlock came through, was bent forward at the foot of the bed. He was holding a controller in his hands, elbows leaned on the knees. On the TV screen, a very virtual man precisely stabbed very virtual two-headed monster with a harpoon. The strange creature let another terrifying roar. 

„Sherlock, what’s going on?” asked Jim, turning his head and giving a quick look at the man. Sherlock was almost lying on a door frame, trying to get himself together after this sudden heart attack.  
„No, nothing, it doesn’t matter, I just…” he snuffled while drying off his sweaty forehead with a robe sleeve.  
„You just went to make us tea, right?” James added and stopped a game. Uneven breath of his lover finally got his attention. He gave Sherlock long, uncomprehending look, waiting for an answer.  
„Sherly, has something happened? You look as if you have just seen a ghost!”  
„No, that’s nothing, nothing had happened, really…” Sherlock was repeating himself. „My brain just makes a fool of me or something…”  
James only raised his eyebrow; he didn’t look like a convinced person and all Sherlock wanted was to escape the room and future questions as fast as possible.  
„I will go and make this tea, then,” Shirley said after a while, still a little bit dopey.

He finally broke this awkward eye contact and turned around. He didn’t even manage to do the first step when his heart started beating like crazy again.

„Sherlock, I came back earlier, tho! Solving the case didn’t take as much time as I thought! You won’t believe, who had committed this murder!” he heard from downstairs along with a sound of brushing off snow from John’s boots.


End file.
